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Page 338
held his spear well and threw himself forward almost at the right moment. His opponent went down on the first pass, but that was more because his defense was poor than because the blow was of any moment. Not good enough.
"Challenge to the king," the herald called. "Sir William of Barnsley will challenge the king for three acres of arable."
Ian hissed with irritation as he replaced his helmet. He had forgotten that there might be genuine challenges, or that the king might offer restitution of contested property to those who would prove their case on his champion. Ian did not know Sir William. He watched the man carefully as he rode toward his end of the field. Not so bad. He rose a hair higher to the left when he moved to his horse's gait. His left leg was stronger than his right. Once again, as the trumpets blew and Ian clapped spurs to his mounta good deal more firmly this timehe wished he weighed two stone more. Since that was not possible, his trust must be in Lord Rannulf's horse.
Nor was the trust misplaced. The speed that the gray stallion could achieve in a short distance was totally incompatible with its thick legs and heavy-set body. Ian was two thirds of the way down the field, and his opponent's horse had not even hit its best stride when his lance took Sir William well left on his shield. The point slipped, caught a boss; the shaft bent as Sir William hung precariously. Then, as the man's legs braced against the pressure, the stronger left leg, involuntarily reinforcing the push of Ian's spear, tipped him over the cantle. Ian slatted Sir William's lance off well to the side and rode on past.
The loges applauded a neat piece of work. The crowd shouted happily. The heralds called the result aloud. By prowess of his champion, the king was confirmed in his possession of the contested three acres of

 
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